Chasing the Past
by HATBC
Summary: Sometimes, when you let go of the past, you decide you want it back.


**Chasing the Past**

_Rating: K+_

_Summary: Sometimes, when you let go of the past, you decided you want it back. And that makes you question everything. _

_Disclaimer: I still don't own JAG._

_*** ***_

She walked up the steps to the Lincoln Memorial and turned around to admire the view of the Washington Monument in the distance. It was dark out, the only source of light came from the various lampposts that were scattered throughout the vicinity, but the monument still managed to take her breath away.

The woman sat down on the step and sighed. It was a cold November night, and her breath could be seen in the crisp air. She remembered sitting on that very step with her husband in the past, often actually, but it was different this time. It was the first time she went there since his plane was shot down – since his death, and it was the first time she came on their anniversary…alone.

She was becoming incredibly overwhelmed by all the emotions boiling inside of her. She was angry with God for taking her husband away from her and their son too soon. Their son, now grown and a spitting image of his daddy, deserved to have grown up with and know the man who gave him life and loved him with all is soul. She was depressed that her husband, her best friend, was no longer there after a rough day at work. She was sad that their wonderful life together was cut way too short, and lastly, she was grateful. Grateful for the time that his was in her life, grateful for the time her son had to know him, and grateful for experiencing true love. Her emotions took over, and the woman dropped her head into he gloved hands and sobbed. Due to her crying, her senses had gone haywire and she didn't realize that someone had seated themselves next to her.

The man placed a hand on her shoulder. "Excuse me, ma'am, are you alright?"

The woman's head snapped up, and she stared at him.

He withdrew his hand. "Ma'am?"

The woman blinked several times in an attempt to clear her blurry vision. Then, she studied the man before her. He seemed tall, had dark hair, his eyes were a sea of blue, and the snow glistened on the gold wings which were pinned upon his overcoat. "Oh, I'm sorry," she apologized. "It's

just…it's…well…you," she couldn't seem to formulate the words. "It's just that you reminded me of my husband," she finally said.

"Your husband, huh?" The man smiled, but his smile was nothing like that of the woman's former husband's—it didn't seem to be as bright. "It must be the uniform."

She sniffled. "Yeah…must be. He was a pilot, too."

"Navy, I would assume."

"Yes, sir."

"Do you want to talk about him? It might help."

"I don't know."

"Do come here every Veteran's Day to honor his memory?"

With everything on her mind, she forgot it was Veteran's Day. "Oh, God. I didn't even realize today is Veteran's Day. I came because today is our anniversary, and for the fact that I was unable to come here since he passed away. It was too hard for me, but now that I'm here, and it is bringing back so many memories-- I realize that it isn't hard…it's painful." She twisted the end of her hand knitted scarf in her hands. "It's like my heart is shattering all over again. I--," her voice broke,"--I used to be able to remember the sound of his voice and the smell of his cologne, but those memories are fading, and…and I feel guilty."

The Navy Lieutenant, she believed, judging by his ribbons, placed a comforting hand on her shoulder and something really did remind her of her husband. "It's okay. Take your time," he said after noticing a single tear trail down the lady's face.

She brushed her tear away and stared down at the reflection pool. "My son was just a little boy when we lost his father…..and he was a teenager when I remarried. He didn't cope well with that. It was like he had a little flame of hope that his father would come home. I wish I could have felt the same, but when you love someone so much- you have a connection, a bond, and you just know when they're never going to come home."

She wrapped her arms tightly around herself. "But to answer your previous question, as you probably gathered, I do not come her every Veteran's Day. Shortly after his plane went down, I received a great job offer in California and I took it, I've only been back here, in DC, six times since then. I thought I needed it – the move. Actually, that's were I met the man I'm married to now. You see," she sighed, "up until today, I thought I made the right choices. I thought I was handling everything as well as I could. I remarried, but I made sure my son never forgot the man that gave him life. I thought I did everything right. But is there a right way to do that? Is there?" She paused for a moment before adding softly, "My son become and aviator, too, and that terrifies me. Being shot down and KIA seems to be a family curse. Not to mention that he already had a few hard landings."

"There is every chance that you son will break that 'curse' – as you put it."

"But there is also every chance he won't," she countered.

"Think positively. I once read somewhere that by thinking positively good things are more likely to occur."

The woman stood up. "Maybe, sir." Out of a sign of respect, the man also stood. "I'm sorry to keep you for so long." She took his hands in hers, and looked into his eyes. It was like she was waiting for him to say the met each other before. "I better get going; I'm sure you have a family to go home to. Thank you for your time."

The man squeezed her hands. "It was my pleasure." The woman let go of his hands and they began to walk away. After stepping off of the last step, the woman's high heels slid on the ice. The man steadied her.

"Thank you."

He smiled. "You be careful now, ma'am."

"Always am." And with that, they went their separate ways. "Oh, and one more thing," the lady said before turning around. "What's your --?" She stopped when she noticed the man she spoke to earlier was nowhere in sight. It didn't make any sense. She only had her back turned for a maximum of five seconds. How could the mystery man have left so quickly?

She shrugged and thought "_That was strange_," while walking back to her rental car.

When she was halfway back to the car, she slid on another sheet of black ice. This time, however, she wasn't lucky enough to be steadied, and she fell – hitting her head against the sidewalk. She struggled to keep her eyes open.

"Stay awake," she heard a voice say. "Keep your eyes open."

"Can't," she mumbled.

"Damn it!" The voice was a little louder. "Keep your eyes open. I know you can do it."

Her eyes fluttered open for the slightest second. "Harm," she whispered. "It can't be…you…" she trailed off as her eyes fluttered closed halfway.

"Fight it!" He ordered. "Stay awake! You can do it." He pressed his cold hands against her face.

She closed her eyes tightly, and when she opened her eyes again, in Harm's place, there was a middle – aged women on a cell phone. She closed her eyes again…she couldn't keep them open – no matter how hard she tried.

"My name is Maria McCrate. I'm at the National Mall on the east side of the Vietnam Memorial. A woman fell and hit her head, she has a cut above her left eyebrow. No, no. She's hasn't said anything since I was here. Yes, I took her pulse. She's alive…but unconscious I think. Yes, I do know how to perform CPR. Send help, please. And hurry!"

*** ***

This time, when she opened her eyes, it was warm, bright and sunny. She turned around when she felt a strong hand on her shoulder. "Harm? What's going on? Where am I?"

"Take a deep breath."

"I've missed you," she placed her hand on his face. "So, so much. Why am I here? Where we? Tell me."

He hesitated.

"You never ever lied to be before. Don't start now."

"We're in Heaven."

"I died?"

"No, not yet. You see, your unconscious, and you were sent to me so you could see how much you have in life to fight for -- why you need to continue your life."

She ran her fingers through her hair. "I don't get this." Her eyes grew wide. "Oh, my goodness! It _was_ you at the Lincoln Memorial."

*** ***

The paramedics rushed off the ambulance and over to Maria and the woman.

"Has she waken up yet?" the female EMT asked.

"No, no, she hasn't."

The male EMT began taking the woman's pulse and blood pressure. "Look through her purse, Anne," he said to the female EMT. "See if she has an ICE number."

"Yes, sir."

"H…Har…Harm," the woman said ever so softly.

"No number listed as ICE," Anne informed her coworker.

"Harm…I…need...him."

"Ma'am, can you hear me? My name is Roger, I'm an EMT. You're gonna be okay. Anne and I are going to get you to the hospital and you'll soon be as good as new."

"Harm," she struggled to say again.

"Hey, Anne!" Roger called. "See if there is someone listed on her cell phone with the name Harm."

"Right away, sir."

*** ***

"Yes, sweetheart, it was me you talked to at the memorial. I go there every year on our anniversary. That place always reminds me of you."

She wrinkled her nose in confusion. "You come down from Heaven every year?"

"In spirit."

"But how could that be? I touched you. You held my hand. After, I hit my head, I felt your hands on my face. Are you saying one can touch a spirit?"

"What I'm saying, love, is that I was there in the spiritual sense, but our bond…connection…is so strong, that to you I was there in a physical sense. I'm with you always and forever."

She paused and tool in the sight of Harm. "Did you know I was going there?" she asked softly.

"Yes. I knew you had your doubts and felt compelled to go the National Mall. I made sure we were there at the same time so I could help you work past your doubts, but you know me. When it comes to talking to you, I've been known to put my foot in my mouth. I didn't say much because I didn't want to upset you."

"Oh, Harm."

"It's very important to me that you know you made the right choices. I never stopped looking after you and our son. Our son is a fine gentlemen, I see he has followed in my footsteps."

"You shaped the kind of man he became."

There was a pause. "I look after the man you married, too. He's a great man. He loves you two very much, and he takes good care of you. He…makes you happy. That's all I want. All I want is for you to be happy. I wish I could be with you, but God had other plans."

*** ****

November 11, 1998

*** ***

Harm and Mac sat at a cozy table at Café Capri. It had been a long day. They had a tough case, Harriet and Bud were out with the flu, and the admiral was in a terrible mood. Harm had insisted on taking Mac out for dinner – hoping they both would be able to relax.

"What a day!" Harm exclaimed before taking a sip of his water.

"I know," Mac agreed before taking a sip of her own water, hoping to calm her nerves. Ever since that kiss they shared when Harm went to confront Diane's killer, she wound up getting butterflies in her stomach every time she and Harm were in the same room.

"I'll tell you what; I can't wait for this week to be over."

"I'll drink to that," they clinked their glasses together. "Thanks for taking me out, Harm. I really do need unwind."

He gave her his flyboy grin. "It's my pleasure."

"You know," she began. "It's been a crazy year."

"It has."

*** ***

Harm paced up and down in the small room before he turned to face the beautiful woman who was once his wife. "I know this is a lot for you to comprehend at the moment, but you need to think about all the great things in your life that wouldn't have happened if you did things differently."

"Why do I get the feeling that this is going to turn into a scene from 'It's a Wonderful Life'?"

He smiled, the smile that she missed so much. "No, not exactly. Besides, I remember that you were never a big fan of that movie. You preferred 'White Christmas' or 'Miracle on 34th Street'."

"I still do."

"I know. I also know our son's favorite movie is 'Top Gun'."

She smiled. "Yeah."

He sighed heavily. "You need to stop chasing the past. You can't dwell on what you what back – on if you could have done something differently – what would be different." He paused and cleared his throat before continuing. "Now, are you ready to see why you have to live?"

"Like see my future? You mean the people up here can see the future?"

"Only at certain times…times like these when we have to wake someone up. We can only see certain things, and always the good – never the bad. But, if something bad does happen, we will be able to find out about it. I, for example, found out about or son's hard landings, and other things that he probably even hasn't told you about."

"Like what?" she asked curiously.

"Well, like the time when…."

*** ***

Café Capri

November 11, 1998

Falls Church, VA

*** ***

"I just want to make sure you're okay," Mac began. You had a lot of life changing experiences this year between your trial, discovering your father's fate…Diane's killer. I want you to know that I'm here – whenever you need me."

His heart melted at her caring words, and he held her hands in his. "Thank you," he ran his thumb across her soft, silky, slender fingers. "It means a lot, and it's important to me that you know I'm always here for you. No matter what, Mac. Always and forever."

"I know," she whispered just before Harm's cell phone rang.

"Sorry," he apologized as he reached for his phone.

She smiled understandingly. "That's okay."

"Rabb," he answered. "Yes, yes I know her. How? She's my mother. How does this concern you?" he asked, the lawyer in him kicking in. He glanced up at Mac and saw that her eyes were filled with concern and worry. His face grew ghostly white. "Yes, I know where it's at. Yeah. I'm on my way. Thank you for calling."

"What is it?" Mac asked.

Harm took some money out of his wallet and tossed it on the table. "My mother fell at the National Mall and hit her head. They've taken her to Saint Mary's Hospital in Georgetown. I didn't even know she was in town!"

Mac stood up and put on her coat. "I'm going with you."

*** ***

"Come with me," Harm Sr. said as he walked Trish over to a window. "I want you to see why you have to wake up." He moved her in front of him, and placed one hand on her shoulder. With the other hand, he pointed out the window. "Look. Look over there. It looks like our son will eventually get his head out of his six and marry that beautiful Marine he is partnered with."

"Oh, my," Trish gushed. "I only met her once, but the way Harmon talks about her…I always had a feeling she was the one." She cocked her head to the side to look in her once husband's eyes.

"Now look over there," he pointed to another spot. "You'll be a grandma someday."

Trish looked at the spot. Mac was in a hospital bed, Harm was standing next to her, and Trish was sitting in the chair holding her grandchild while Frank was standing behind her. She shivered at the eerie feeling she received. It was creepy, looking in on her life in the future. "I have to wake up," she whispered.

Harm Sr. turned her around, "Yes, you do."

"I'll see you again?" she asked softly.

He placed his hand over her heart, "I'm always with you. And when the time comes, we can continue our life together here, but you have a lot of living to do first, Patricia."

She nodded. "Okay."

He cupped her face in his hands and kissed away her tears. "You'll be okay."

"Love you," Trish said as she walked over to the door and prepared to open it.

"Always and forever I will love you, too."

*** ***

Mac was hot on Harm's heels as they raced through the hallway of the hospital looking for the Nurses' Station that they were told to go to. Once the station was in their line of vision, Harm and Mac reduced their speed so their breathing would return to normal by the time they reached it.

"Excuse me, ma'am," he said to the nurse, "I'm Lt. Cmdr. Harmon Rabb, Jr. and this is Maj. Sarah MacKenzie. My mother fell at the National Mall and we were told you know where to send us."

"Oh, yes. The EMTs said she was asking for Harm when they brought her in. Do you know where we can contact you father? We looked at her license and it said her name is Patricia Burnett, but you introduced yourself as Harmon Rabb, Jr., so I am assuming she was asking for Harm Sr. Perhaps they are divorced?"

Harm felt Mac's hand on his back as he mustered up the strength to correct the nurse. "Harmon Rabb Sr. was a fighter pilot in the Navy. His plane was shot down over `Nam on Christmas Eve 1969 and he was declared MIA. A few months ago, we," he looked at Mac, "discovered that my father died in Russia. However, in the `80's my mother did remarry, hence the reason why her last name is Burnett."

"Oh, I'm so sorry," the nurse apologized, embarrassed. "I shouldn't have assumed anything. Mrs. Burnett was near The Wall when she fell. She must have been visiting your father…that might be why she was asking for him."

"How is Mrs. Burnett?" Mac asked.

"She's very lucky. No broken bones, just a minor cut above her eyebrow – it didn't even need any stitches, but she does have a minor concussion. She'll need to remain here overnight for observation, though."

"Can we see her?" Harm asked.

"Of course, follow me."

When they approached the room Trish was in, they heard her arguing with the doctor. Apparently, she was ready to go home. "Listen, Doctor, I'm fine. I just want to go back to my hotel…that's all. I'm ready to go home."

Harm cleared his throat as he and Mac entered the room.

"Harmon! Oh, you brought Sarah. How are you, darling?"

"I should be asking you that, Mrs. Burnett."

"What did I tell you about calling me 'Mrs. Burnett'?"

"To never say it again and call you Trish."

"Ah, so you did remember."

Mac smiled. "It's a hard habit to break."

"Doctor, this is my son, Lt. Cmdr. Harmon Rabb, Jr. USN, and this is his partner," her eyes sparkled, "Major Sarah MacKenzie, USMC. They're JAG lawyers in DC," Trish said, hoping that that doctor would be intimidated.

"Commander, Major," the doctor said. "Thank you for serving our country."

The pair smiled. "I think I speak for the both of us when I say it's our pleasure," Harm said.

"How did you know I was here, Harm?" Trish asked. "I was going to surprise to tomorrow."

"When the EMTs brought you in you were asking for dad, but when they looked on her cell phone they just assumed I was him, and called me…you know….considering…"

"I didn't ask for you father," Trish pointed out. "I saw him. And I visited with him. He told me I made the right choices…marrying Frank. He knew a lot about you, too. He told me that before you were partners with Sarah you were partners with Maggie, no, that wasn't it. Oh, my. What was her name? Oh, yes. Meg. You were partners with Meg Austin. He told me about the time that she went undercover as a Marine in boot camp, and she was pushed into quicksand. Your father said that you got there just in time to pull her out. Why didn't you tell me about that?"

He felt all the eyes in the room on him. "Because I was just doing my job, Mom." He now had goose bumps. He never told his mother about Meg or Kate or Allison Krennick. The only partner he ever told her about was Mac.

Mac shook her head. "He may have terrible timing for other things, but Harm is certainly always there to save a damsel in distress."

"And why didn't you tell me or Frank about the time when you and Sarah went flying in 'Sarah' and she was shot by a poacher who committed murder?"

He shrugged uncomfortably. "It didn't seem like something you should worry about."

"You lead a very interesting life, young man. You must learn to keep me in the loop. Oh, and speaking of flying in 'Sarah', you father was very impressed with the way you restored her. You made him really proud, son. He also loved how you named the plane after your grandmother," then, she added silently, "it's also the name of your wife. Ironic."

Harm pinched the bridge of his nose and turned to the doctor. "Can we have a word?"

The doctor nodded. "Let's go in the hallway."

As Harm and the doctor stepped out into the hall, Mac sat down the chair next to Trish's bed. "You really do believe you saw Harm Sr.?"

Trish nodded. "You must think I'm a nutcase, but it's true. I really did see him, Sarah."

Meanwhile, in the hallway, "My father died many years ago, is the concussion the reason why she said she saw him?" Harm asked. "Today would have been their anniversary, actually," he added.

"It's the most likely reason. That and perhaps any amount of stress she has been under recently."

"Is this major? Can it cause brain damage?"

The doctor shook his head. "You mother will make a complete recovery."

Harm sighed heavily, "The strangest part is, I never told her about any of those situations she was talking about, and they all happened!"

The doctor smiled. "Maybe she really did see your father. If there is one thing I learned from this profession, it is that miracles can happen." He paused for a moment and let Harm absorb what he said. Then, he continued again, "Your mother wants to go home, but because she came in with a concussion, she has to stay here over night."

"I completely understand, and couldn't agree more."

*** ***

Trish looked up when Harm and the doctor came back into the room. "I'm sorry I ruined your evening," Trish said to Harm.

"What was that, Mom?"

Trish crossed her arms. "Well, Sarah came with you."

"So?"

"So? The two of you aren't in uniform which means you didn't come from the office."

Harm shook his head. "You're starting _that_ again?"

Trish shrugged. "A mother knows…a father, too," she added to herself. "You'll marry each other someday." She stated.

Harm looked at Mac and their eyes locked. He felt spark when Mac smiled--love. Yet, love was never a simple thing. Who was going make the first move? Would they figure things out soon? Or would the take the wrong path and mix everything up? What would happen? "Who knows what fate has in store for us," he said aloud.

The corners of Mac's mouth lifted up into a flirtatious smile once again. "Maybe it's something great."

"Yeah, maybe." He had no way of knowing if they would get married someday, but he did know he was completely in love with Sarah MacKenzie, and that was a fact.


End file.
